


Without Reason

by Deejaymil



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JJ is lost, but she finds that she's not alone in feeling that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Reason

**Author's Note:**

> She knows all the reasons that people trot out to justify their adultery. She never tries to justify it.

It’s become a ritual: going out for ‘drinks with the girls’ on Wednesdays, kissing Will goodbye at the door—they’ll both pretend not to notice that she always comes home freshly showered on these nights. She holds her husband close for a moment this Wednesday night, feeling his heart beat in his chest, and sees the way he swallows back words.

She never tries to justify it. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to stop.

It’s been three months since it started, and she has no intentions of stopping.

They spend their days chasing the cruellest and most vicious people imaginable: surrounded by countless bodies, endless death and infinite ruin. Eventually she can feel the misery of their work sinking into her pores, coating her skin with an invisible layer of filth that won’t come off no matter how much she scrubs. It pulls at her, dragging her down with it until she can't remember what it's like to feel alive anymore. Will holds her and tells her everything is fine, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t see the things she does.

Instead, later that night when she’s in his silent apartment, so different from her own that’s decorated with children’s toys and pictures and the trivialities that fill her family life, she feels him shudder slightly against her and she pulls him closer. His mouth works against her skin in a breathless gasp as he comes inside her, hair damp with sweat against her neck. He slides out of her and leaves her hollow, watching her with dark eyes as she dresses silently and lets herself out.

Neither of them try to justify this.

But he’s a profiler too, and she knows that he’ll have noticed that tonight she returns home with the scent of him thick on her skin.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t change the way they work together. She knows there’s only so long before one of their team notices something has changed, something minute. A glance that lingers just a little too long, a casual touch. Anything could possibly send them undone and bring this fragile house of cards tumbling down around her. It almost feels as though she’s daring the world to notice. Daring Will to stop her one of these Wednesdays, to pull her aside and ask her in his soft voice if she has any idea what she’s doing to them.

She doesn’t. She’s as lost as the men they hunt. She thinks of his hands on her skin, as deft and desperate as a man starved for touch, and thinks she might not be alone in feeling this way.

She watches him work with Rossi perched on the side of his desk, long fingers flicking through pages of reports almost as quickly as he reads them and pointing out details they’ve missed. He feels her eyes on him as he reaches for his coffee, and as he looks up to meet her gaze she sees it: the hand that trembles ever so slightly as it closes around the coffee. Rossi watches them both with knowing eyes and she doesn’t know if she’s pleased or frightened, or just numb.

She can see fear in his expression as he notices Rossi watching her and suddenly she’s not so sure who has the most to lose.

 

* * *

 

She’s stayed late, later than Hotch for once, and she’s alone in the break room as he walks up behind her. When she turns with a smile to ask him why he’s there, he drops his mouth to hers and crowds against her. The kiss is hungry and entirely unexpected. Their teeth clack together slightly in his haste. There’s a slight flick of tongue against her lip before he withdraws, leaving her breathless and stunned. He stares at her for a moment with pupils so wide that she can feel herself falling into them. She’s voiceless, pressed against the counter, and she wants him to continue, wants him to stop, wants him.

When he shakes his head at her with the same odd expression he’s worn throughout their kiss and turns and walks away, she’s not surprised. Later that night, she has frantic sex with her husband. Will’s barely undressed for bed before she’s on him, grasping and sucking and moaning, and he’s gone as soon as he realizes how desperately wet she is. She’s been wet since the kiss. She been desperate since the kiss. Will is inside her, hot and hard and throbbing as he comes, but her eyes are closed and she’s thinking of another man, another cock: she suddenly remembers how _he_ looks as he comes and Will gasps as she tightens and climaxes around him. She’s coming, helplessly, harder than she ever has with Will before, begging him for more, more, _please don’t stop, keep going, please,_ but they both catch the split second where the name she whispers isn’t correct. Will bites his lip and looks away as he softens inside her. His come is trickling down her leg and this suddenly isn’t a game anymore. She doesn’t have to be a profiler to know this was a test. She’s not entirely sure she passed.

They've never kissed before.

 

* * *

 

It’s a Monday night when she picks up her keys and walks to the door. Will looks up at her and she sees resignation in his face, as though he’d known this moment was coming. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but instead she just lowers her head and leaves.

The door closing behind her feels like the end.

He’s in his pyjamas when she knocks and she can see the confusion in his eyes as he stares at her from over his bowl of cereal.

“Is Henry okay?” he asks, and the fact that he asks after her son first even though they both know that isn’t why she’s here takes her breath away. He waits a beat, waits for her nod. “It’s Monday.”

She walks past him into the bedroom that she knows for a fact he only uses when she’s there, and stands looking down on the bed.

He follows her, cautious, as though he’s trying to approach a skittish animal. “JJ?” he asks, and his voice has gone husky. It’s his bedroom voice, one that she thinks with a thrill that out of their team, perhaps out of everyone, only she knows. It’s his bedroom voice and his eyes have turned dark. She pulls him down onto the bed and he doesn’t fight her, wrapping his limbs around her and holding her close enough that she can feel the frantic beating of his heart. She can feel the warm length of him hard against her, but instead of their usual frantic undressing, he nuzzles against her neck, rubbing against her like a cat.

She’s broken the rules by coming here on a Monday, so he’s breaking them too.

She doesn’t say a word, just lets herself respond to his attentions, arching against him. This is her test. When he finally undresses her, he’s calm and focused, methodical. It’s so unlike the other times that she’s breathless, undone. They’re both naked, lying together with the slide of sweaty skin against one another. He’s hard, sticky against her thigh. When he finally kisses her, panting slightly into her mouth, she can feel him twitch against her leg, his heart skipping slightly. She thinks of the other night, the sex with her husband and wiggles with a mewl as she flushes hot and cold and becomes, somehow, wetter. She can feel it damp along her thigh as she begins to shake and her muscles fluttering as though to draw him in. She could come like this, she realizes hazily, just thinking about him fucking him.

“Now,” she whispers, and that too is breaking the rules. They don’t talk, they never talk. His fingers tap against her and she realizes he’s counting her breaths, the beats in her chest.

He’s in with a slight hiss, slim hips stilling against hers as he pauses, him eyes wide and lost. She meets his gaze and feels her toes curl against the bed, arching into him, knows that he can feel the way she clenches around him and how impossibly aroused she is by him. More than ever before. He’s a profiler—she can see in his eyes as they glaze, as he takes one and one and puts them together to realize she’s been aroused for hours.

“By you,” she confirms, pumping her hips up to take him deep, “only by you. Always you. Need you.”

It hits her as he slowly moves within her that his eyes never leave her. All this time they’ve been watching her, mind racing to permanently etch this memory in inedible ink. All this time, he’s known exactly what they’re doing, what he’s risking. She's been lost this whole time, but Spencer Reid knew exactly where he stood.

It occurs to her that she’s been using him, the only person who knows what they face daily and can meet her halfway. She’s used him to feel alive. He’s known this the whole time, and still gone along with it. She knows as she meets his eyes that he’s seen the shift. There's panic in his expression, and wonder. She wonders if he even knows what to do next. His arm wraps around her, pulls her close and she says his name as his teeth scrape across her skin.

At the sound of her voice he shudders, rolling his hips, once, twice and her vision tunnels.

“Fuck,” he moans against her neck, and the sound of him cussing is delicious as he places one warm palm along her hip and comes with a groan, desperate and wrecked in a way she’s never seen him like before. And _fuck_ , it’s as good as she imagined and she feels filthy and wrecked as she revels in it.

She can see the shock in his eyes, he never finishes first, but she can still feel him pulsing slightly within her as she follows him over the edge, fingers gripping his back tightly as she’s shaken to the bone and then some. Just as undone as before, she sobs his name and clutches at him and almost crests twice before she falls. He’s made a mess of her. But when it’s done and it’s his come she can feel wet and cooling between her hips, he turns away from her and she can see in the set of his shoulders that he’s waiting for her to leave, still unwilling to trust her. She lays down next to him, and pulls him close, shaking her head when he opens his mouth to say something.

They don’t sleep but they spend the night curled together, and every beat of his heart is one step closer to oblivion.

**Author's Note:**

> **Edited August, 2017.**


End file.
